


Imagined Versions of You

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [202]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Crushes, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Tony Stark has never been shy. It’s both a blessing and a curse.





	Imagined Versions of You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Pornstars. Prompt from this [generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/promptsnsfw).

Tony Stark has never been shy. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, mostly, because it’s afforded him a working life that he loves, one he can lay out on his own terms. It wasn’t always that way, but after eight years in business, he’s name enough to set his days and his rates; the directors--so obsequious in the old days, so hard to get on the phone--now, they come to him. Sometimes there’s begging. It’s great.

But it’s a curse sometimes, too, especially when his lack of shyness morphs into an absence of shame. He does have some, honest; there are moments in life that can make even a porn performer extraordinaire blush. The thing is, they aren’t generally things that happen on set. In all honesty, Tony can’t remember the last time he was embarrassed while on the clock.

So when it does happen, one Tuesday morning in Pasadena, it’s like getting hit by a truck.

An extremely attractive truck who’s got several inches on Tony both in height and, uh, where it counts.

“Tony Stark,” Nat says, bouncing on her directorial heels, “meet Steve Rogers.”

“Um,” Tony says, “hi.”

Rogers beams at him and sticks out a hand, grabs Tony’s with a semi-bone crushing grip. “Mr. Stark!” he says in this absolute star-spangled voice, all green fields and Mom’s apple pie. God, where did Nat find him? “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. When Nat said you’d signed on to this, I couldn’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” Nat says, deadpan. “There may have been squee.”

Steve flushes, his handsome face bright with delight. “I don’t know what that means, but I was pretty fired up about it, yeah. I really admire your work.”

The guy’s wearing a towel, is the problem. A small one that’s threatening with every second to go on fucking strike. If he were naked, ok, Tony could probably deal, but the tease of the terrycloth is getting to him bad. Never mind the fact that Steve looks like he was hammered out by a god with an artistic bent; never mind that his eyes are the color of clear summer skies; and never fucking mind that he seems genuinely happy to be there. Sure, he’s saying nice shit about Tony but he’s not slathering it on like some of the up-and-comers do. He’s not a toady, this one, a career-hungry climber, not at all.

The thing is, Steve’s also hard. And not in the fresh-from-the-fluffer sort of way. He’s getting stiff while they’re standing there, the white terrycloth stirring as they speak.

Christ.

“Hey,” Tony manages, doing his best to keep his eyes above board, tugging his dressing gown tighter. “Thanks.”

Steve's grin gets wider. “Would it be weird to say that the first porn I ever paid for was yours?”

Tony’s whole face goes scarlet. “ _What_?”

Nat barks out a laugh, the hoarse one that says she’s been smoking. “Fellas,” she says, “on that note, I’m gonna go do my damn job. You two keep chatting. But be ready to go in about ten. Remember we’re starting with the dream scene.”

She ducks away and Steve ducks his head, the tips of his ears fireplace red.

“That was weird, huh?”

Tony takes a deep breath and does not, absolutely does not, try to figure out how old Steve is and then subtract back. “I mean, kind of. Flattering. But also weird.”

Steve’s pretty face folds. “I’m sorry, I--”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” He peers up into those pale eyes and smiles, gives a shake of his head. “Makes me feel a little old, that’s all. I forget how long I’ve been in the business, sometimes.”

Steve takes a step closer and god, Tony thinks: he smells good. Like cedar and citrus. “You’re not old,” Steve says firmly. “You’re experienced. And, pardon me for saying so, but it’s sexy as hell.” His fingers brush Tony’s arm, slide up to his shoulder. “You’re even more gorgeous in person that I thought you’d be.”

Tony can’t resist. “Is that something you thought about a lot?”

Steve’s close enough that Tony can feel his dick twitch. “Uh huh. Is that bad?”

That this stone wall of a man needs so much reassurance is something Tony should not find endearing or in the least bit arousing. And yet.

He reaches up and runs his hand through Steve’s hair, jostles a few long strands free. The makeup guy is gonna kill him. “Not bad at all. I just hope I don’t disappoint. It isn’t everyday that I compete against past imagined versions of me.”

Steve makes a little sound, a moan stretched into a quiver, and he arches into Tony’s grip, his whole body rippling as he clutches at Tony’s shoulders. “You--I’m sure that I’ll--”

Tony's slept with a lot of people--some of them on his own time, even--but he can’t remember the last time somebody wanted him, clung to him with this sort of out and out _need_ . The part of his brain that’s a dick reminds him that what Steve wants is Tony Stark the porn performer, the AVN award winner, everybody’s on-camera switch, the guy Steve used to beat off to when he still couldn’t buy beer. He doesn’t want _Tony_ , the asshole part of his brain says; he wants _Tony Stark_.

Well, fuck it, Tony tells himself. So be it. The least he can do today while getting paid is to give the kid some of what he wants, on set as well as off.

“You always this riled up before a scene?” he murmurs. “Huh? All this for little old me?” He reaches down and presses his palm to the long, obscene line of Steve’s cock, squeezes just enough to let the guy rut. “You better be careful. Nat doesn’t like people who give it up before they’re supposed to. You sure you can keep this up till I’m ready for you?”

Steve groans like he’s dying in the best of all possible ways. “Not if you keep doing that.”

“So you want me to stop?”

“No! No, please, don’t--”

“You’re gonna have to stretch me a lot to take this thing, aren’t you?”

There’s sweat on Steve’s face now, the sweetest sort of panic. “Oh, god. Yes.”

Tony tucks his mouth against Steve’s throat. “And you know how much I like being stretched, don’t you? You’ve seen it. How hot somebody’s fingers can make me. How sometimes, I can even come from--”

“Talent!” Natasha bellows from across the room in her best drill sergeant voice. “You’re wanted on set right the fuck now, please. Everybody else except Clint, get somewhere where I can’t see or hear you.”

“You heard the commandant,” Tony says, turning the words against Steve’s jaw. “We should go.”

“Wait,” Steve says faintly, “no--”

And then his mouth is on Tony’s, eager and hot, his hands spearing over silk and winding across Tony’s back. It’s a good kiss, a deep one, but it’s not one that belongs on a porn set. There’s too much care there, too much kindness, and even when Steve sucks on his tongue, there’s a sweetness behind it that makes Tony’s stupid head spin and his cold, creaky knees shake.

What the hell, he thinks. What the hell.

It’s only when they part that he realizes his arms are flung around Steve’s neck and that he’s out of breath and in danger of tenting his robe. All from one measly kiss.

“Ok?” Steve says with a pleased little smile.

“Yeah,” Tony says, somehow. “More than."


End file.
